Sunday, July 26, 2015

Did you know that cars are females and they have favorite drivers too?

My theory comes with distinct evidence from 'The Fast and The Furious', in which a specific car performs best when the handsome hero drives it. This also proof that cars are females and why it is always addressed to as ‘she’. Sleek, shiny, elegant and comes in all shapes and colors. She behaves perfectly when there is a guy on the driver’s seat. Whereas when a woman drives, Madame gets pissed and does whatever is required to make the universe believe that women are bad drivers. Even some kitchen appliances hate women, but we will come to that later.

Okay, so all people secretly know that women are not the best drivers in the world. Trust me whenever there some kind of idiocy going on a busy road, my first instinct tells me that it is a woman behind the wheels. That’s also when I think I am a man in a woman’s body. Well, even if I fast forward a hundred years women will always come second when it comes to driving, and this is not the woman’s fault. That is where my discovery applies – cars are women too and they hate it when women drive. Fair enough.

To begin with, I already know that our car hates me. Ever since I got a license it has been showing displeasure whenever I sat on the driver’s seat. For instance, five days after I got my license, she banged herself into an electric post (may be in an attempt to commit suicide) when I was carefully trying to park it. I should mention here, that in India I drove a Swift, and later practiced here in Muscat with my trainer whose car was actually a tractor in disguise, so when suddenly I drove an actual sedan, my calculations about its sensitivity was nowhere close to reality. This car actually does not even require a touch on its accelerator to move. You just have to think about going and it goes. Such is the technology built into cars these days and I am not used to such sophistication. So basically, it is not my fault. The car just decided to take full advantage of my unfamiliarity and this would not have happened if it was the guy behind the wheels. Being the forgiving person I am, I just let bygones be bygones and went on with my life. Meanwhile, in the basement parking, the car was silently scheming against me.

It is the peak of summer here and all we want from Middle Eastern cars is the AC. The hubby was at a different location that day for official purposes and I was on pickup and drop duty for the little one. By noon, the summer camp gets over and I walked over to the parking area in the scorching sun. As soon as I entered the car I switched on the AC which blew hot air in my face. Such wicked humor I tell you. I called the hubby, who was in a meeting and he answered after I repeatedly called at least 576 times. I spoke about the AC and he had no clue, so obviously this car was missing its real owner. I still drove the car to the summer camp, at approximately 47 degree Celsius, and hot air blowing on my face. When the kid came in I had to convince him that the AC was not working and he started a mini tantrum. Completely drenched (in sweat), I looked like an extra for a Bollywood rain dance. Somehow the ride home was made and I reached the last signal before home. When it turned green, the car started jerking like crazy. Some sadistic morons started honking behind me and the kid looked baffled. I took the foot off the accelerator and the jolting stopped. I slowly managed to move forward and parked in the nearest available spot.

It was the day before Eid holidays when a car is all one wants. On further investigation by an expert, it was revealed that there was a radiator leak. All this happens when on one day of all the years in Muscat the guy happens to be away on duty!

After two days, we managed to get it back from the garage.

I need a car which is male. Straight, young and handsome. Suggestions are welcome.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

The worst
mistake I may have done as a parent, may be reading the story of ' The Hedgehog’
to my son. The little guy who used to walk into rooms alone like everyone else is now frightened to go from one room to another, thanks to my story reading skills. He thinks there are hedgehogs hiding in our rooms, which
I did not convey directly, so basically he has started reading between the
lines and that should be counted as a milestone. Instead, I am facing a lot of flak from his Dad about misleading the
child and other blah blah. In my defense, I was trying to improve his
imagination and vocabulary by reading an actual story. I did not make him watch
any Rohit Shetty movie and ask him to FIND the story!

The fear of
hedgehog has turned out to be bothersome for all of us. For example, if I am
sitting on the sofa watching TV, and I need my phone which is ringing in the
other room, I can no longer ask him to bring it to me. He asks me to accompany him, so
I’d rather get the phone myself. Moving
from the sofa can be a really exhausting experience, and there is none other
than the hedgehog to blame. The most brutal part of this whole ordeal is that I
can’t even complain.

To be honest, I
read a lot of children’s stories in my childhood and the ‘Hedgehog’ was not one of
them. Until recently I dint even know what it was, I had to actually Google it.
In the story that I read to him, it was mentioned that the hedgehog springs
into action once the lights are out in the house. Aaron initially was worried
that it was going to finish the milk he was supposed to drink next morning.
Later he started wishing that it happened.

Stories are known to have strong impact on little minds and one can't unlearn it.
I was actually having a fun time reading to him, because now he doesn’t ask
unanswerable questions, like ‘Amma why is the ugly duckling ugly?’ I mean if
anybody had the answer to that then half of the world’s problems would be
solved. He was beginning to understand what I read and my horrible selection of stories is proof that one day I will be a producer in Bollywood.

One evening I was searching for his school bag but it was nowhere to be found. I
walked into the living room and he was engrossed in ripping a car open with a
screw driver.

“Aaron where is
your schoolbag?”

He: “My schoolbag?
Come with me ..”

He lead me to
every corner of the house, and I obediently followed. He quickly glanced at the places it is usually
dumped in. Finally when there were no more rooms left he said,

“I think the
hedgehog may have taken it”

Until then I hadn't realized the extent of the damage I had done. The hedgehog had started taking the blame for
everything that went missing, and I am sure if it lasts long enough it will
soon steal his homework, marks and girlfriends too. That night I tried to tell
him that Jesus came and kicked the hedgehog out of our house and now it does
not exist at all, I made the nervous boy a bit confused.

For a while there was
no talk of hedgehogs in our house and I was relieved. In fact I was secretly
feeling proud of myself for having instilled in him the ‘Jesus saves us’ concept.

The next morning
we were walking down the road and saw a bearded man coming towards us.